Planning A Revolution
by RoseCourfeyrac
Summary: Enjolras finds that not all of les Amis are quite as enthusiastic as he is about the upcoming revolution.


"Planning A Revolution" by Sarah Disclaimer: The characters belong to Victor Hugo, not me, I just borrowed them to have a little fun. I promise to return them (mostly unharmed!) soon...ish.  
Thanks to Jen and Alison for the beta-read.  
  
  
**Planning A Revolution**  
  
"How about June the tenth?"  
  
Combeferre looked down at his diary and shook his head. "Sorry, but we have Literature that day."  
  
"The eleventh then?"  
  
"Erm, no, we've got another exam then."  
  
Enjolras sighed. Organising a revolution was harder than he'd thought, especially when most of the students involved had upcoming exams.  
  
"Couldn't we just miss them? I mean, we're fighting the authorities, surely no one would mind." That was Courfeyrac.  
  
"You're just afraid you're going to fail. And we all know why that would be," Bahorel joked. All the students knew Courfeyrac had been neglecting his studies to spend time with Rose, his latest grisette. Courfeyrac glared at Bahorel and stalked over to Grantaire's table, where he poured himself a glass of wine and joined the drunkard in his normal occupation of moping. Sensing that the bickering could continue all day unless someone did something, Combeferre looked around. Enjolras was still muttering dates to himself, and there was no one else in the room who was sensible enough to take charge. I guess it's up to me again, he thought.  
  
"To answer your question, Courfeyrac, no we can't 'just miss them'. Our continuing education is just as important as this revolution."  
  
"That's all very well, but until we decide on a date there won't *be* any revolution," Enjolras exploded. "Can we all manage the fifteenth of June then?"  
  
"I didn't want to mention this before, but you know if I miss any more work then I'll probably lose my job..." Feuilly's words faded under one of Enjolras's patented looks.  
  
"Well I'm so glad you could fit in telling us that. And that you managed to spare us the time to come and pass that message on in person. Should we all bow down to you now?"  
  
"No, we save that for our wonderful demi-god of a leader." Grantaire had by now realised that Courfeyrac was 'stealing' some of his precious supply of wine, and so was out to make everyone's lives as miserable as his would no doubt be if he was forced to sober up. Enjolras turned the glare onto him, while Feuilly retreated to another corner, glad to be out of the spotlight again.  
  
"We don't need the help of drunkards like you. Why don't you just go and pass out or something?"  
  
"Your wish is my command, oh Fearless Leader. Is it okay if I do that here, or should I drag myself to the gutter outside first?"  
  
"Whatever," Enjolras responded automatically, having already turned to Jehan, who had somehow been dragged in to act as Enjolras's secretary in this. Grantaire looked down at the table quickly to hide his hurt at the dismissal, but not before Courfeyrac noticed. His companion poured another glass of wine for each of them and began to explain yet again why Rose was so wonderful.  
  
"Prouvaire, note down that Feuilly is unlikely to be able to help us, so we're one man less. What about the rest of you, anyone else busy on the fifteenth of June, or can we overthrow the government that day?" Enjolras was all business again, determined to finally decide a date.  
  
"It doesn't matter to me at all what day we do this. Life without my darling Cosette is pointless anyway, why should I care what I do if she isn't here?" Enjolras sighed again. Now Marius had started on about Cosette it could be hours before he stopped. Unless someone interrupted him...  
  
"Yes, yes, that's all very well, but do you actually have any prior engagements on that day?"  
  
"Well, no, but..."  
  
"Fine, you're in. Combeferre, no exams I should know about?"  
  
"Not on the fifteenth, no," Combeferre replied, having consulted his diary again.  
  
"Then it's agreed, it takes place on the fifteenth of June."  
  
"You bow, summer's not a bery good time for be," wheezed Joly. "All the powwen in the air, it sets by hayfever off. And I think I'm coming down with something anyway. Does by tongue look funny to you, Bossuet?"  
  
"Looks normal to me. Except for - oh my god! What's that horrible green patch?" At this Joly yelped and started searching frantically for his hand mirror. Examining his tongue in it he said,  
  
"Oh no! It's true; it's turning green. I have to get home to my textbooks and find out what it is. It could be something terribly infectious and you might all catch it and die too." With this last he dashed out of the cafe, leaving Bossuet chuckling.  
  
"That was cruel Bossuet. Was there really anything on his tongue?"  
  
"No there wasn't, Jehan, but you know that he would have decided there was even if I hadn't said anything. He'll decide he's cured in a few days anyway, at least until he comes down with his next illness."  
  
"If you've all quite finished, then I'll fix the date as the fifteenth of June." Enjolras was practically shouting now.  
  
"That sounds - no, wait! Didn't Blondeau say something about a lecture we couldn't miss then?" enquired Jean Prouvaire. Enjolras could feel a headache coming on as Combeferre started looking through a pile of sheets.  
  
"Oh, yes, he did mention that yesterday. I must have forgotten to enter it into my diary," Combeferre said apologetically. "It looks like we'll have to find another day, you know how he'll get if we don't show up for that."  
  
'We're not likely to live past the barricade anyway, so neither Blondeau's wrath nor the exams really matter.' Enjolras thought. As the chatter in the cafe increased, he amended that. 'Most of them aren't going to live past this evening if they don't at least try to help organise this.' Taking a deep breath, he tried to make his next sentence as calm as possible in the circumstances. "Could anyone else suggest a day when we are not busy taking examinations, or being ill, or mooning over girls, or just plain getting drunk?" Guilty looks came over the faces of almost everyone in the room as Combeferre said hesitantly, "I think the seventeenth is clear for most -"  
  
"Listen everybody!" Gavroche made his entrance in the room and Enjolras sank back into his chair, his headache increasing along with each new disturbance.  
  
"What is it now?"  
  
"General Lamarque is dead!" the boy shouted. All the occupants of the room stirred at that, except for Grantaire and Courfeyrac who had drunk themselves into a stupor by this point.   
  
"His funeral is to be held on the fifth of June," Gavroche continued.  
  
"That's it! That's when we'll build the barricade, on Lamarque's funeral day!" Enjolras was so excited at finally making some progress that he'd begun to shout again.  
  
"Err..." Combeferre practically whispered.  
  
"What?" His excitement was too great to let any disturbances upset him now.  
  
"Well, you see, it's just that, it appears we have an exam that day..."  
  
THE END  



End file.
